secrets
by julesdap
Summary: Eighteen secrets made during the Horcrux hunt that Ron, Hermione, and Harry never mentioned to anyone, even each other.


**Disclaimer:** _I do not own any of the Harry Potter series or any of its characters or plot._

 _ **AN:**_ _This probably won't get a lot of views since it's kind of poetry, which isn't very popular in fanfiction, but I honestly loved writing this, okay! And I haven't written something like this in ages. This isn't exactly 'hot off the presses', but I don't feel like I edited it enough either - the internet here is slow as all hell, so I just wanted to get it out before it stopped working completely. I'll try and edit it sometime, but for the meantime, here you go. Spare me a review, won't you?_

* * *

 _secrets_

* * *

 **i.**

Whenever it got particularly difficult,  
out on the hunt,  
Harry,  
instead of resting every chance he got,  
would pull out the Marauder's Map  
and stare at it for hours.

He would find Ginny's name  
( _Ginevra Molly Weasley_  
Ginevra that's beautiful  
 _are you kidding it sounds so old it's terrible_  
no no it really is you're beautiful  
 _love you_ I love you _I_ _ **love**_ _you_ )  
and he would watch it, track it,  
that little black dot.

( _Erised, is what this is_ )

( _what you want most  
what you cannot have_)

He would find each of the DA members, too,  
if they could be found.  
( _they were spending too much time in the Room  
or was that just him?_  
he stares at the seventh floor  
until they are all safe and accounted for,  
all of them)  
More often than not he would see  
a name in Carrow's classroom, Filch's office, the hospital wing  
( _Neville Neville what are you doing there?  
go go he's coming take Nigel with you he's in the next room please please please_)  
and in these moments  
he would feel the strangest mixture  
of worry and pride and sorrow  
( _I started this I know I'm sorry  
I don't regret it_

 _Please keep fighting_ ).

* * *

 **ii.**

From the moment they all agreed  
that they would wear the locket in turns,  
Ron knew something bad was going to happen.

It was the paranoia that undid him, really.  
Sometimes he would stare into the distance,  
longing for a mirror  
because he wasn't sure his thoughts were his anymore,  
wasn't sure he looked the same,  
looked like Ron Weasley and not Tom Riddle  
( _what if my irises are red what then_ )  
if it had happened to Ginny once,  
what about him?

Ron Weasley waited for something bad to happen.

* * *

 **iii.**

On rainy nights, as water pattered down the roof of the tent,  
 _(Harry and Ron didn't know it)_  
Hermione would stare at her DA coin  
for hours.

She had tried, many times,  
to send a message through it,  
( _give a little hope feel a little hope;  
these leaders were her students_)  
but it was impossible no matter what she tried.

Still, she cast and recast the Protean Charm  
until her fingers were numb,  
until she had exhausted herself,  
and she had to conclude that the spells had been reinforced.  
( _my Protean Charm isn't that good_ )

It was impressive spellwork,  
and she found herself thinking  
of quiet Padma Patil,  
who had asked to learn the Protean Charm first thing,  
who soaked up knowledge just like her  
 _—shy as a first year bold as her twin—_  
they had talked for hours  
on spell theory, charm creation,  
 _magic, magic, magic_

Padma who was brilliant,  
Padma who was eagle wings and lioness roar  
Padma who never even played it up,  
not once

and Hermione smiled.  
She slept well that night.

* * *

 **iv.**

Hermione's cooking,  
even magically done,  
was never really that bad.

Ron didn't really know why he kept complaining.

* * *

 **v.**

Hermione missed Hogwarts the most.

She missed the library and the Quidditch pitch,  
the Forbidden Forest and the Giant Squid,  
and Hagrid's Hut and the dormitories,  
and the Whomping Willow and the library.  
She missed Hogwarts,  
her many corridors, her moving staircases,  
the Sorting Hat, the Great Hall, the four Houses.

Hermione missed her second home  
but not as much as she missed her first.  
( _were Wendell and Monica Wilkins still alive?  
were they in Australia?  
were they tortured to death—  
_her biggest fear was that she would never know.)

* * *

 **vi.**

Ron Weasley,  
every night before he went to bed,  
( _almost on auto-pilot_ )  
would look at a picture of his family.  
( _it was the only one he had with him  
he should have brought more  
_IDIOT _  
he should have been_ prepared)

He was almost afraid for Harry and Hermione to see.  
( _Harry has no family and Hermione's family doesn't have her  
I'm sorry I'm sorry you are both too brave_

how can you look at me?)

but he would always always always  
give it just the smallest look  
( _GinnyFredGeorgePercyCharlieBillMumDad_  
RON)  
before tucking it back in his pocket and shutting his eyes tight.

Sometimes it kept the nightmares away.

* * *

 **vii.**

On nights with clear skies,  
Harry would always volunteer to be the one to watch for intruders.

Not that he ever let his guard down on the job,  
but on those nights he would look up at Sirius,  
( _Dog Star Canis Major_ brightest star in the sky)  
and he imagined that Sirius was up there with his parents  
and he hoped that his godfather was happy.  
( _Lily James Sirius Lily James Sirius  
guide me_)

He always wondered  
if Remus was watching the night, too.

* * *

 **viii.**

After he wore the locket,  
Ron cast a Patronus.

He needed to make sure he was not possessed.  
( _happy memories what are those again?)_  
(Harry and Hermione and family and Gryffindor and good times and goodness,  
 _remember them Ron_ )  
( _I'm not possessed, Voldemort can't do Patronuses  
right?_)

* * *

 **ix.**

What Ron didn't know  
was that Harry did exactly the same,  
would always go outside just to cast his own Patronus,  
( _no one will notice if there's a light, no one's here_ )  
revelled in the relief that brought,

and he would keep Prongs around for company.

* * *

 **x.**

When Ron left,  
Hermione gripped her DA coin almost feverishly.  
She would look at it whenever Harry wasn't there,  
and there was a ridiculous sort of joy within her  
whenever there was a message.  
( _TONIGHT_ , it said once, a signal  
 _EXPLODE_ , it said another time, a cue  
and _MEETING_ and _ATTACK_ and _RETREAT_  
all just short words, code words,  
never giving anything away)

( _but each word seemed to heal her  
as words always did_)

She wondered who was leading the DA now,  
who planned the meetings  
who went on the missions.

And she caught her breath  
whenever the galleon warmed in her palm,  
because she felt like giving up and her chest would burst,  
( _any minute now heart and blood and guts and lungs_ )  
and that she was about to die,  
but as long as someone anyone was still there  
still with the fight in their fingers  
as long as the hope and the fight  
and the fear and the light  
was passed on,  
then it would be all right.

* * *

 **xi.**

When he had finally left the forest,  
after the Snatchers and the tears and the locket at last off his neck,  
Ron felt his head clear.  
Shell Cottage felt  
like the absolute most wrong place:  
Bill disapproved of him and Fleur gave him the silent treatment  
and Ron hated himself.

Bill and Fleur were glad he was safe, of course  
but he had left Harry and Hermione behind  
and he wasn't supposed to do that.  
Ron rather thought Bill and Fleur were mad themselves,  
settling down in the middle of a war,  
but then, his parents had done the same.

He had broken down in Bill's sitting room,  
( _who thought he quite deserved it  
and Ron quite agreed_)  
but that night, alone in the bedroom Bill had lent him,  
he did not sleep.  
He dreamed up more theories of where the Horcruxes could be  
than he ever had.  
( _half of them were bogus  
but he didn't much mind;  
he was the Gryffindor chess master,  
he was capable, he could be brave  
and his entire family was as well  
_why had he ever left why had he left what had he done?)

That night, alone in the bedroom Bill had lent him  
Dumbledore's Deluminator felt warm in Ron's pocket.

He missed Hermione and Harry.

* * *

 **xii.**

In the morning hours after Ron left,  
Harry scratched at the scar on his hand until it burst open again.  
( _I must not tell lies I must not tell lies I must not tell lies_ )  
(YOU HAVE NO FAMILY  
 _that hurt, Ron_ )  
Each letter leaked red,  
but he hardly even noticed when he had done it to himself,  
or why.

( _except maybe he needed this pain he probably deserved it anyway_ )

He shoved his hand into his pocket till it stopped bleeding.  
Hermione never knew.

* * *

 **xiii.**

In the aftermath of Nagini,  
of both Bathilda Bagshot's body and Godric's Hollow,  
as Harry's body writhed on the bed,  
Nagini's fang marks on his arm and muffled screams in his throat  
( _is it Voldemort in his head or is it just a bad dream?  
we have seen too much of the dark, here_)

there was a moment  
where Hermione doubted.

(there had been too much hope in that visit;  
it was their first real plan in days  
 _the last enemy that shall be destroyed is death_

see, there was all that hope and it was _gone_ now)

And so there was  
just a moment, just a flash  
where she thought:

we're not gonna make it _  
the Horcruxes are impossible this is impossible the Dark Lord's already won Ron's gone Harry's in pain I AM ALONE_

WE

 _WILL_

 _ **DIE**_

 **HERE**

And then Harry came awake  
and Hermione gasped at him,  
— _the youngness in his face the pain in his body the still real hope in his eyes—  
—Hermione? I saw my parent's deaths—  
_and she remembered  
 _this was always our legacy, wasn't it, we the Gryffindors, we the ever brave  
we __**win**_ _  
come out victorious  
destroy the darkness, plunge into this war  
or we die trying._

(except she was so tired, she wanted her undeserved rest)

( _when was I ever a real lioness?_ )

* * *

 **xiv.**

One time,  
Harry worked himself into a panic  
thinking of little Colin Creevey  
who had never done anything except snap a picture,  
who could do a Stupefy so strong it had knocked Ernie Macmillan out for four hours  
and who would be sixteen now.

( _what if he's captured what if he's gone what if he's dead  
_ he's only sixteen  
 _sixteen and Muggleborn and hunted and not at Hogwarts  
sixteen and young, too young _oh God _far too young not yet please be alive_ )

( _he'd never given him an autograph_ )

Harry swallowed,  
folded shaking hands together,  
and imagined Colin was in this very forest  
( _on the run and still snapping pictures_ )  
and his brother Dennis would be right by his side  
( _sketching a portrait of the woods into his last piece of parchment_ )

And both of them  
all of them  
pretending  
that they would be fine.

* * *

 **xv.**

Hermione tried to stop crying when Ron left  
( _she used to be good at it, really  
especially before Hogwarts  
she'd had no friends she used to be good at it then  
she'd learned to cry noiselessly_)  
but she couldn't.

Ron had broken something unbreakable  
and she cried into the early hours of morning,  
pretended she couldn't see Harry shaking in the bed across her.  
( _I'd do anything, Ron, goddamnit_ )

(when Ron came back, though,  
fury roared up inside her  
 _how dare you leave_ _ **how dare you leave**_ _  
you absolute_ arsehole _you left Harry and you left me  
_ we are trio _you said you'd stay I_ hate _you_

 _don't ever do that again_ )

* * *

 **xvi.**

When the locket shattered  
Ron vowed that all his negativity had shattered with it.  
( _not the least loved not second-best  
_ _ **never was.**_ _  
merlin I'm so sorry I'm fucked up and nearly took you down with me_ )

And afterwards he felt purged, come anew,  
( _killing that thing had felt_ so good)  
it had all been a blur:

Fury and hurt and words and love and loyalty and he couldn't make sense of anything  
except throwing both arms down, metal and rubies, and the sword stabbing, stabbing, stabbing—  
(he had never felt so confusingly dizzy  
 _stuff like that always sounds cooler than it really was_ )

And he had never felt so relieved;  
really,  
Horcrux or not,  
how could he have ever doubted?

* * *

 **xvii.**

While he was out on the watch,  
Harry found he had lost the need to stare up at the night sky  
( _not so often, at least_ )  
Instead,  
Harry would glance back,  
time and time again,  
through the tent entrance  
and drink in the sight  
of Ron and Hermione  
( _just to make sure they're still there, they haven't left_ )  
and their presence rooted him in the present,  
lent him bravery  
and relief and hope and almost a kind of safety

and the steadfast belief that the war could be won.

* * *

 **xviii.**

It was almost strange to have Ron back:  
comforting and irritating all at once.

She wasn't quite ready to forgive him yet,  
so she settled on not speaking with him.  
In the following days they fell into a kind of almost-normality:  
Ron was back to his old self, the locket destroyed,  
the doe Patronus presenting a new mystery,  
and she'd never admit it, but in the following days  
she felt an insane kind of relief  
that the three of them were once again together, united,  
complete.


End file.
